


Compensation

by Dame_Syrup (mary_pseud)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Compensation, Consent Issues, Kinkmeme, Multi, alien ethics, alien police, pleasure - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 08:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_pseud/pseuds/Dame_Syrup
Summary: For the kinkmeme prompt: Martha/Judoon/compensation





	Compensation

Martha Jones had carried the small plastic sheet with her for what felt like forever; that tangible proof of the first time she met aliens, real proper aliens.

She remembered them far too well. Judoon: square bodies in black armour, massive helmets covering equally massive heads. Policemen for hire, sort of. She'd wandered space and time with the Doctor, seen worlds strewn between the stars like marbles spinning from her fingers. Still, she remembered the Judoon very well.

So when the Doctor dropped her off at some sort of an outdoor bazaar and suggested that she "get in some shopping" while he went and found some components for the TARDIS, Martha was unsure where to go – until the sight of a great black helmet moving through the crowd, parting it like an icebreaker, made her remember the Moon and an alien face. And the sheet of plastic that was currently tucked inside her jacket.

She followed the Judoon, and it joined two others. They stood beneath a tree with thin leaves like strands of red-touched gold, and they watched the passing crowd – maybe. Maybe they were just standing there.

She stepped closer, and their three helmeted heads turned towards her. She wondered what they made of her: wondered if perhaps one of them recognised her.

"Excuse me, but – do we – have we met before?"

One of the Judoon pulled a rod-like device from its belt and pointed it at her, and it burbled and whined.

"Identity, human female. No previous criminal record associated with your DNA. We have not met," it barked, voice muffled by its helmet, and then it just stood there.

"Ah, well. Must have been another one – anyway, I was given this, er, thing, for compensation?"

All three of the Judoon turned to her, their black-prowed heads pointing at the sheet she was pulling out from under her jacket.

"- and I was wondering what it was good for."

One of the Judoon reached out with blunt gloved fingers and opened the folded-over sheet, seeming to read it.

"Compensation for cooperation during an investigation," it said in a voice like a stamping boot. "Do you wish to claim compensation now?"

"No, I mean – yes, but I don't know what I can ask for."

The Judoon turned its head to the one standing at its left.

"Compensate her," it ordered, and the other Judoon reached up and removed its helmet.

Martha swallowed at the sight of the Judoon's face. Massively wrinkled, with tiny delicate ears set high on its head and a great square muzzle, startlingly mobile lips and two short, stubby horns. She breathed in the sharp alien smell of it, nothing like the smell of an Earth creature but still something alive and strange.

She stared up at it, wondering what its life was like. Did it have a home, a family? Or did it just police, hunt criminals as ordered, accuse and convict and execute as easily as breathing? Did it ever-

The Judoon fingered a box clipped to its belt, and Martha's body exploded with pleasure.

She was with the Judoon: feeling its dark weight atop her, revelling at the touch of its hard hands, the alien musk of it on her skin, feeling it pry and stretch and slide into her, massive and hot and alien and alive, wet and pumping, roaring as it came with her.

She was with the Doctor: that tight body tight to hers, hairs tickling her chest, his mouth on her breast and her neck and then he spun her – free-fall? – he spun her and licked her, sucking toes and clit and nipples and lips with equal fervour until she begged him to never stop.

She was with her boyfriends, and her girlfriends. She was dancing in an ecstatic orgy, open to every touch and caress and probe. She was solving every puzzle, fixing and finding and healing, curing diseases, patients smiling and rising from their beds at the sight of her, showing new strong bodies and tiny strong infants and the Nobel Prize for Medicine was cold and heavy in her hands, as heavy as the wedding ring on her finger, cold as the kisses of the Doctor.

The ecstasy passed as swiftly as it had arrived and Martha shuddered, falling to her knees in the dust. She was barely aware of the Judoon's picking the plastic sheet from her fingers and then tucking it back into her hand.

"Compensation has been given," the alien droned. "Please acknowledge receipt of compensation."

"I – what did you give me?" she husked. Her throat was sore: had she screamed? Had she been standing here, screaming with pleasure in front of these – she felt the blood rise hot to her face.

"Your nervous system and memories were scanned for pleasurable stimuli, and a composite stimulus was projected by this," the Judoon said, tapping the box at its belt. "Pleasure is the universal currency."

Then it jerked, as a long stream of alien syllables poured out of its helmet. It clapped the helmet onto its head.

"Suspect spotted," it barked. "Prepare to intercept!"

The three Judoon marched off, and Martha stared at the sheet of plastic, now highlighted with a gleaming blue seal. She swallowed.

"Didn't even get to say thanks," she said wonderingly, and then went back to find the Doctor.


End file.
